


A Thousand Deaths to Die

by saphsaq



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends - All Media Types, Star Wars: Restraint - James Luceno, Star Wars: Rise of Empire Era - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Wrath of Darth Maul - Ryder Windham
Genre: Kilindi, M/M, Orsis, Orsis Academy, Sith, Sith Apprentice, Sith Training, Trezza
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-07
Updated: 2013-12-07
Packaged: 2018-01-03 21:52:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1073480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saphsaq/pseuds/saphsaq
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Disclaimer: It is small, it is barely a story and it's not a work of commerce. Just a vignette for a bigger tale – <strong>Star Wars</strong>.</p>
<p>Summary: Ever wondered what happened in the former space-pirates fortress at Blackguard's Gorge on Orsis? Ever wondered what Darth Sidious there taught in private lessons his once to be Apprentice? Inspired by the novels <a href="http://starwars.wikia.com/wiki/Star_Wars:_The_Wrath_of_Darth_Maul">The Wrath of Darth Maul</a> (Ryder Windham) and <a href="http://starwars.wikia.com/wiki/Restraint">Restraint</a> (James Luceno). Ignited by the <a href="http://darthipedia.com/wiki/Darth_Maul">Darthipedia's</a> musings about the multiple deaths of Darth Maul. Written down by a fan's hand.</p>
<p>Acknowledgement: I bow deeply before Dark Lady, who took up the toils to beta this story for me so kindly. Alas, I'm a Sith, but I'm failing in imagining a way to reward you adequately. A thankful nod goes to the authors of the novels who inspired this story. Even if it was rather the kind of I-can-do-better-than-you inspiration.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Thousand Deaths to Die

Blackness.

Pain.

He opened his eyes. Light. The ceiling. There was always the ceiling.

“Now?”

“837!” Maul tensed his muscles and leapt on his feet. The floor was cool and dry under his soles, as if he had not lain there a moment before.

Silence.

Maul growled. The pain ebbed, leaving him dazed and drifting. Spinning fast around his axis, he swung the wooden combat staff in a broad sweeping circle.

Emptiness.

Maul growled again, feeling the pain almost completely gone. He reached for it, for the last nerves twitching in agony and squished them gently until their soundless cry infected others, sending a rising surge of ache through his body. He savoured it, becoming like raw exposed flesh, a hotbed of highly agitated emotions, able to sense even the slightest ripple in the Force. Maul raised his face toward the ceiling.

Sidious was suspended there as naturally as if he was laying on the ground. Only the carefully placed soles of his feet and palm of one hand indicated, that he used the Force to keep this elevated position. Sidious held his combat staff diagonal over his body, so as not to hint what would be its next action.

Both fighters wore the same exercise garb, a loose cut, long-sleeved tunic and trousers. Each piece was of a sturdy, coarse fabric, which had lost its colour over the countless attempts to clean from it blood and sweat. The tunic revealed Maul's midriff when he bent backward. For the scrutinising eye of his Master this move would consist of the three elements: will, gravity and the Force. The pain was to be neglected in this equation. Maul landed the back-flip firmly on his feet. His combat staff pointed immediately toward Sidious.

The Sith Master let himself just plump down, instantly jerking his wooden staff low over the ground, aiming for Maul's ankles. Maul could still not fathom why this disrespect of grace in fighting stances by Sidious' yielded the same and better result than his following accurately the pattern received through the Force. Maul resolved to do another back-flip. Repeated failure had taught him to discern when it was better to retreat, than to jump forward over the kneeling figure of his Master.

For the ingenuous observer it would appear as if Sidious didn't press the advantage he had. The Sith Master rose in one swift motion like a puppet on a string to his full hight, but kept his place.

Maul's somersault had been calculated to land his feet squarely on the wall of the training room, using the momentum of the rebound to launch himself as a living spear at his Master. He held his weapon with arms and hands close to his body, ready to thrust it forward, when he sensed his move was anticipated. Swiftly Maul swung his legs down. He landed crouched hard in front of Sidious, the combat staff risen above his head to deflect the blow which was already falling down on him.

More blows hammered on Maul. Yet he solely kept on to deflect the hits by turning and angling his staff dexterously. Maul allowed the charge almost to reach him, thus feeding his anger and letting him becoming more and more energised. The moment his intensely alerted mind sensed a tiny breach in the attack, he jumped into action, blocking Sidious' weapon.

“You are too fond of the Force,” Sidious' face over the crossed staffs was only inches from Maul's. “It's not like a palanquin the Hutts love to recline on.” Sidious had, in his official persona as Palpatine, the talent to laugh at someone without appearing arrogant. However when teaching Maul he seldom showed this virtue. And especially not now. “I thought Trezza had dispossessed you of that idea already.” With one powerful push he shoved Maul away, using the same push to propel himself into a back-flip, not missing the opportunity to kick his disciple's jaw with the edge of a foot.

Maul knew exactly that this artful demonstration was thought to goad him into better performance. Sidious had landed beautifully, running out the move with a flourishing gesture of his free hand as if inviting his pupil to a dance. But if his Master was mean, Maul could be meaner. The pain in his jaw had focused his mind again. Maul threw his wooden staff to the ground, intending to hit Sidious' feet, shins or knees. The power of Maul's shot was such that the staff bounced back from the ground into his hand. He repeated this, changing fast and unpredictably between left and right.

Sidious could just hop to and fro to avoid his bones becoming crushed. A thin, glistening film of sweat formed on his forehead as Maul found his rhythm. And then, from one moment to the next, it became a double-rhythm. However Sidious didn't indulge it. He showed off his agility with a different move - one easy swipe and he had caught Maul's staff before it went back to his owner's hand.

Maul let himself become consumed by rage. But there was no way to attack the double windmill he saw himself confronted with now. Mercilessly Sidious drove him across the room, forcing him eventually into a corner.

After the shuffle of the feet and the whirl of the staffs had ceased, Maul heard his and his Master's heavy breath in the silence. Sidious held the weapons as if it were horns pointed at his apprentice. Maul, having already lifted his hands in an defensive Teräs Käsi stance, lifted furtively one hand a bit more and angled it slightly. The tips of the staffs followed this movement, closing in on Maul's hand. Maul allowed his hand to be caught by the wood, turning it in small half-circles left and right, even laying the hand tentatively on one of the staffs. Suddenly his hand changed direction. He grabbed the other staff, ripped it from Sidious' grip and dashed past his Master.

Maul didn't care for elegance or beauty in his manoeuvre. Clinging to his prey, he just slid on his belly over the ground. In the middle of the training room his speed had decreased enough so he could roll effortlessly on his back, copying his Master's pose from the begin of the lesson. Now however, he held the combat staff with both hands.

Sidious closed the distance with one big stride. He carried his staff loosely at his side, holding it too with both hands, his arms rather dangling in a clumsy fashion. The wood swung sloppily back and forth, but with an unexpected precise upward trust Sidious shattered one of his disciple's wrists.

Writhing in agony and surprise, Maul fell heavily on his side. A brutal grip at his shoulder yanked him on his knees. He couldn't draw power from the pain in his broken hand, it defied all attempts to unite its diverging impulses and alter them into something useful. The curve of a combat staff pressed against his throat, but Maul did not try to squish his fingers between the wood and his neck to gain his breath. He heard his Master's voice whisper in his back: “I'm pleased how well you took the pointers I gave you today. Not there at all yet, but you proceed nicely on your way toward becoming a Sith Apprentice.” A tongue caressed the base of his horns. Maul tried to think of Kilindi the Nautolan girl and prepared for death number 838.

**Author's Note:**

> Today the overall number of hits of my works published here reached the **1000**. To celebrate this I uploaded a new one.


End file.
